No matter who you are
by public static void
Summary: Augusta didn't know how Neville felt, but his tears told her he was relieved.


Augusta was not a feeble woman. She took pride in her strength, both of spirit and physical even at her age, and liked to remind it to anyone who would otherwise forget. Her son was not one of such people, and he always regarded her with respect. Even his wife was considerate enough to believe Augusta when she said she could take anyone on any days, with any kind of spells.

The first time Alice heard Augusta say that she giggled nervously and nodded. That earned Augusta's anger. If there was something she loathed, was being treated like a child. she was not a child, and Alice had no right to treat her as such. Her vengeance might have been immature, but challenging the promising young Auror to a duel with only water-related spells and winning in less than three minutes was something Augusta cheered. In fact, she often used that moment as inspiration for conjuring a Patronus.

The thought of that particular spell left her suddenly tired. Three years ago, there was no need to be that paranoid. Time changed constantly, and sometimes it brought bad things with it. For the first time in her life Augusta felt scared, though it was not because of pure fear of her life: she feared for her son.

The rise of the self-called Lord Voldemort left the world shaking, but brave men and women like her son and daughter-in-law defied the expectations of the madman and condemned his way of ruling. In turn, that left her Frank vulnerable. Which also meant young Neville was in danger.

Augusta was no seer, but she was smart and recognised Frank's need to hide with his family as a foreboding action. Frank, just like herself, did not fear for him but for his child. Augusta knew that Neville was in danger, but she didn't know why until the Lestranges attacked them.

Her strength became Neville, because there was not much more left for her in the world. Augusta could see the nervous looks of the Healers and that alone told her Frank would not come back. She had Neville instead, and she vowed to protect his boy's little boy for the rest of her life. That proved to be a challenge.

As soon as young Neville could walk without assistance he found himself in strange situations. There was a time when he almost fell on his head from a considerable height; Augusta would never know how did the child get over the kitchen counter, but if Algie had something to do with it there would be hell to pay!

Oh, she learned to live with Neville's clumsiness, but she begged Morgana and Merlin that the boy never got used to it. She begged them to let Neville grow strong and not weak, firm instead of insecure. It didn't happen.

"I-I lost Trevor again, Grandma," Neville said one afternoon, for the fifth time in an hour. "He jumped from my hand and I couldn't catch him!"

Of course he couldn't. The boy had butter fingers and the attention span of a goldfish.

That didn't mean Neville was not smart, because Augusta relished the little moments when Neville went out and tended to the plants with her. She could only smile (secretly, of course) whenever Neville's magic touched a plant and it went from withering to blossoming in an instant, even if it wasn't the right season. It was sad when Neville grew out of his accidental magic, but it also meant he was magically maturing.

That didn't change Neville's love for plants, and Augusta made herself a promise to build him a better greenhouse and to buy at least an uncommon plant each year, for him.

How happy Neville was the first time he saw a Hydro-Hydrangea! The boy, fourteen years old at the time, went crazy when the plant began to grow and self-fertilize the ground for itself and for the rest of the small, hydrogenophilus plants.

"Why would you give me something like this?" Neville asked in a brief moment of courage.

Augusta merely smiled, thinking how much she prefered this strong and bold Neville instead of the shy one.

"You like plants, don't you, Neville?"

Her grandson nodded and went back to the Hydro-Hydrangea, studying flower, steam, and leaves. One day, he would be a great Herbologist.

If he survived the war.

Augusta knew something was changing within the Ministry. Her magic felt the danger coming from a distant chamber in the Ministry as soon as she stepped into the Atrium. There was not much she could do, already past her prime and without the connections she had once harbored. It was the price to be paid for privacy.

"Come around, Neville," she said one evening after dinner. "Let us have some tea while I tell you about your father. You need to be strong like him, not a weak-minded fool like many people around us. No, that wouldn't do. Your father was brave and corageous. He spent his sanity in a lost cause, but he did so for the right reasons."

Neville listened, nodding at the right times and always in silence. He was a boy of sixteen, who didn't need to burden another war, but to Augusta he was already a grown wizard who was slowly learning his place in the world. She could already see the strength that remained dormant inside him for so long.

"You have potential to be great, Neville," she said with a sigh, thinking how much Frank would love to see his son grow. Alice too, she believed. "Use it."

Neville looked at his feet, causing Augusta to frown. He was strong, she knew it, but he had no confidence at all in himself.

She was surprised next year when she found out that her Neville was leading a rebellious group within Hogwarts, challenging the Carrow siblings and other Death Eaters. She was not afraid this time. Neville was not Frank and had more levelheadedness than her son; if someone could lead a revolution, that was Neville.

Maybe that is why Augusta had no guilt when she left her house and most of her belongings behind. She took only the necessary things from her and Neville's room before going into hiding. From the small cottage in France, where she could enjoy the sun and think of the past, Augusta heard of Neville's and Potter's exploits through the wireless. They were unstoppable, each on his own way.

Augusta only met Lily Potter once, and at the time she thought the girl would have been better for Frank than Alice. In her isolation, Augusta contemplated how much like Lily Potter Neville was, and how like Frank Harry Potter was. An unladylike chortle escaped her lips.

The next time she saw Neville, he was leaner and standing straight. He had a faint limp, but it didn't fail to make him look every part the wizard he was.

For the first time in years, Augusta's throat hurt with the unfamiliar pain of the need to cry. She didn't, and stayed on her chair.

Neville went closer to her with a satisfied smile on his lips and eyes so bright with pride and relief that Augusta's usual grimace became a small smirk.

"I missed you, Grandma," Neville told her and kneeled in front of her.

She could see the small scratches here and there, and even a few bruises. She was proud of him for living.

"I couldn't kill Bellatrix," he confessed with a hard look that somehow fit Neville's kind face. Augusta shook her head and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You didn't need to, Neville," she told him with her voice breaking. "A mother defended her daughter just like your parents protected you. Now Bellatrix is dead and we are alive."

He nodded, but Augusta saw his displeasure. Her grandson had never been set on revenge, but the last year might have been too hard for him.

"I;m proud of you," she told him. "You have become a man. A leader."

Now, Neville's mouth quirked upwards and he offered a faint snort. "I finally live up to my father's name and your expectations."

At his words, Augusta felt shaken. Was that why he always looked contrite when she spoke of Frank? Had she, unknowingly, set the boy to a path of self-shame?

"Oh, no, my boy," she offered with a soft voice and a tender touch to his cheek, just like she did when Frank cried as a child. "You lived up to my expectations when you made spoke your first words, when you ran in the garden for the first time, when you planted a seed for the first time and it grew! Neville, you are my grandchild. I've made mistakes, but I never tried to tell you you were less."

Augusta didn't cry. Not even when Neville, still kneeling, put his head between his hands and sobbed.

"I tried so hard to be what you wanted me to be," he cried, and though he had every right to be angry, his voice only sounded relieved. He had been waiting to hear those words for year, and she only gave them after he helped defeat a madman.

"I always thought you didn't want me," Neville continued. "You always told me what my father did, how he was... He was what you wanted me to be."

"Listen to me, Neville." Augusta pulled his hands away from his face and lifted his chin. Neville's eyes were red, for crying or for so many time awake during the last weeks, Augusta didn't know. "You don't have to be like he was. I told you of Frank, of Alice, to make sure you never forgot about them. They gave too much for you, and I only wanted you to know how they were before the Lestranges left them on St Mungo's."

She was amazed when Neville offered her a smile, big and bright as his heart was. She hugged him and felt his hands envelope her carefully. This was their first hug in many years, and Augusta regretted that.

"I love you, Grandma," he finally said. "I knew you would survive, but I thought I wouldn't. I'm glad to be with you."

Augusta was not a feeble woman, but at the words of her grandson, she cried.


End file.
